The Punch Line
by Melancholy Ink Splatter
Summary: From the Joker's POV. He knows Batman's true identity and is ready to strike. What will happen? I'll only write more if enough people like it, so please review if you think it's worth my time to continue. Rated T for now, but will probably have violence.
1. Chapter 1

The Punch Line

_**The Punch Line**_

The knife was getting dull. Picking it up, I sharpened it against the rough edge of the step where I sat, back to the wall, head just barely fitting underneath the hand railing. The sound the blade made against the grainy stone was relaxing, allowing me to think deeply. I now knew who the Batman really was, and it was only a matter of time before I could strike. Batman and I…we were made for each other; destined to continue our little war for as long as the other survived. But Bruce Wayne…he could be broken. He was merely a means to Gotham's end.

"Joker," said Roberto, one of my thick-skulled minions, coming in through the grimy alley. A light or two flickered above us and I knew he would be starting at my pale face. "We're ready to move." I continued to sharpen my knife.

"What do you think of the plan, Robby?" I said, my tongue flicking out onto my red lips for an instant.

"Sir?" He said. I could tell he was afraid, could smell it on him like a dog.

"The plan, Robby."

"I hope it'll work…" It was more of a question than a statement. I hated it when they answered like that. As if I wouldn't allow them their own opinions.

"Hope…ah. If hope's all you're going by then perhaps the plan needs some…revision?" The chum didn't know what to say to that. They never knew what to say around me. _Is it the scars?_ I laughed to myself.

"You see, Robby boy," I got up, blowing on the edge of my knife, getting a bit of dirt off. "I've never been one for plans." I stepped towards him, watching as a bead of sweat rolled down his neck. He was one of hundreds to me; simply another button on the circuit board. Smiling, I placed the blade calmly on his neck, curious as to what he would do.

"I…I understand," he said. I let out a cry of laughter, enjoying the twinge of fear in his eyes.

"Well then, I'm reassured." I dropped the knife, setting it in my pocket, walking past him and out into the alley. "Coming?" I chuckled again as he shuffled to catch up with me. _I love my job._

**A/N:** Just dabbling for now, but would you like me to continue? Don't underestimate the power of reviews!


	2. Chapter 2

"Master Wayne, would you care for a drink before I retire?" Alfred asked, his demeanor always one of composure and wit.

"No thanks, Alfred." Bruce relaxed into a chair, just off from work.

"Gotham could probably survive one night on its own you know, sir."

Bruce thought about it a moment and sighed. "As much as I'd like to, I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Not with that ruthless killer still out there."

"Are the police not after him as well?" Alfred asked, cleaning up a little around the kitchen. Bruce nodded but they both knew he would not change his mind. With a final "good night, sir", Alfred left the room for the evening, leaving Bruce with his thoughts. He loosened his tie, thinking of the new plans for some weapons he'd discussed with Lucious, going over them in his head. He got up to pour himself some coffee, planning to leave in about half an hour. Every night he did this. This was who he was, who Batman was. Gotham needed a hero more now then ever and he knew he had to give it to them even if they didn't think they needed it. He learned the risks a long time ago, but with every day that passed it did not make them any easier. Someone out there, even though he tried to protect them, would always hate him. Alfred said it was just the natural order of things, and he did believe him…he just couldn't understand it fully.

He allowed himself (rather, _forced_ himself) to relax, turning on the TV. It was on the news and he didn't even think to change it. It was the ultimate reality show.

"…wearing clown masks, stormed the building, taking fifty-six lives, and leaving thirteen wounded. Police have managed to capture two of the masked criminals and are currently questioning them for information. Little is still known about the identity or whereabouts of 'The Joker' but police say they are putting all resources towards his arrest."

In the other room, I tried to decide on which knife to use. I selected a shorter one so that I would have to get really close in order to do any damage.

"You've got the wrong house," the old man said again. I motioned to one of my men to gag him before he gave us away. The man who held him produced an old beanie that he stuffed in the butler's mouth.

"Now," I whispered to my eight men, clown masks on and ready, "let's go find ourselves a Batman." I led them out, making sure the gagged butler was being towed close behind me so he could easily be seen right away. We found him sitting in front of the TV, drinking from a coffee mug. He had the right build, same height.

"Hello," I stated plainly.

He jumped to his feet, instantly recognizing my voice. A silent moment passed. He was staring at the old man. They seemed to be figuring something out through eye contact. That not seeming like the best idea, I motioned to my men that he should be blindfolded too.

"What do you want?" he said in a voice that was clearly his own, only changing it when the mask went on. He didn't look scared, only startled. _Hm,_ I thought, _I'll have to fix that. _

"Bruce, is it?" I asked as my men spread out; three moving behind him by the large windows, two slightly behind me, one holding the butler, and two searching the rest of the house. He hesitated only for a second before replying.

"That's right." It was clear I didn't require an introduction. The makeup and scars usually spoke for themselves.

"Well, Bruce, what I want is simple. Give it to me without, heh…_trying to be the hero_, so to speak" my men laughed. Good dogs. "And all should go smoothly." I stepped closer to him, rubbing the edge of the knife with my gloved hand. "But if things get out of hand…if someone does something a little too, ah, _batty_." I sidestepped over to the butler who was sitting on a chair, his hands being tied in back of him. I placed the stubby knife on his jaw, amused as he flinched slightly. I could tell by Bruce's reaction that I did not have to finish my sentence. I grinned, glad that we had an understanding. A minute later the two men I'd sent to search the house returned, merely shrugging their shoulders when I looked at them expectantly. I raised my eyebrows, took a threatening step towards them.

"Honest, boss, we found nothin'," one of them said. But I knew it was the truth. No one in their right mind would put what I was looking for on display. I turned back to Bruce, who was looking quite irritated by then.

"I'm sure Mr. Wayne here will be our escort this evening, hm?" I could tell he knew what I wanted, but pretended not to. _Always so predictable. _But as simple as pushing the button on a detonator, I pointed the knife once more at the old man, and all pretences magically _vanished_! One of my favorite tricks.

"Follow me," he began walking out of the room, two of my men right beside him. I snapped at the rest of them to stay behind me as I followed the Bat out of the house and to an old garage. He typed a code into a keypad and, without any flashy lights or sounds, he opened the rusting door. We made eye contact before he stepped inside and I knew that if there had not been an ungodly amount of hatred there before, there certainly was now. I chuckled as we trickled inside. At first it was pitch black, but then there were a few clicks and we were lowered down on a platform where, one by one, rows of florescent lights flared into life. He walked ahead of us, turning when he reached a large table. He said nothing as I walked around, surveying the various weapons and blueprints. His suit, his armor, stood in a tall glass case. It opened with a push of a button. I laughed gleefully, extracting the black cape, twirling it around before slinging it on.

He glared at me from where he stood, arms crossed. Next I pulled out the mask, that notorious mask, slipped it on as well. I skipped about, cackling boisterously, leaping around my men and Bruce for a moment before stopping behind him, setting the knife on his shoulder.

"You see, Brucey, _anyone_ can be Batman. All you need's a bit of money and a death wish." He wanted to tear me apart, I could see that. What he would give to have the roles switched if only for a moment. I licked my lips, stepping back to the glass case where I threw the mask back in, giving it a charitable pounding with my foot first. I liked the cape though and decided to wear it a bit longer. It had a nice flow, good dramatic potential. But there was something missing and I wasn't about to pass it up now.

"Where's your ride, Bruce?"

I could tell right away he had no intention of telling me.

"I thought we were passed all this," I sighed, nodding to the man who held the butler, smiling as his fist came crashing down on his head, the old man falling to the well-swept floor. I crouched down by him, resting the hand that I held my knife in on my knee, looking up at the Bat testily.

"Come on, Brucey. Where's your ride? Your coupé, your wheels?" Still, he did not budge, which was all in good fun for me. I brushed the blindfold away. Then, never taking my eyes off Bruce's, I slowly sliced a neat line from the butler's ear up to the top of his head, watching as the red began to surge.

Without warning a metal blade in the shape of a bat came hurling at me. I managed to dodge it for the most part, it only nicking my arm, and only on the fabric at that. I laughed wildly and jumped to my feet as he came at me. Not a second before he tackled me, three of my men whacked him to the ground, one tactfully tying his feet and wrists as the other two thrashed him around a little. I called them off after a moment, happy to finally see him bleed. I consulted my watch.

"Well, maybe later then." I faked a yawn and stretched. "It's getting late and there's still so much to do!" I smiled around at my men, glad to see that they had their guns out and ready the whole time. I knew they were scared out of their minds underneath those masks. I enjoyed that, but knew they deserved to go back to the surface now. They were such well-trained dogs after all. I told them to carry the Bat out, merely shrugging when they asked what to do with the butler. I let two of them stay behind with the pathetic old man, returning to the surface with Bruce Wayne in tow.

**A/N: **Gawd I love the Joker. Sinister grin


End file.
